


Captain of Your Heart

by susiephalange



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Female Reader, Fluff, Girls in Love, Lesbians in Space, Married Couple, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: “Why does every guy on board think I’m available, and straight? I can’t catch a break!”AKA, you're sick of all the men on board the ship trying to ask you out, when you're in love with the one and only Captain Phasma.





	Captain of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Am I too late? Noope it's still June! Ha! I totally forgot it was Pride Month (yes, even with all the rainbow flags everywhere!) and it's 28th of June here in Australia and I've decided to write a fic to celebrate pride. This is for all the lesbians/bisexuals out there who can't find enough wlw fics to read! Enjoy!

As one of the leading engineers aboard the Finalizer, it was hard to catch a break. You were loyal to the First Order, through and through, would perhaps die for the cause if it came to it. You had improved the design of the TIE fighter ships, had invented a fix to the requirements to needing an organic organism in the trash compactors, and instead worked on an acid to reduce the garbage to dust, no need for incineration, and safe to eject into the atmosphere to turn into stardust in the future. As for catching a break aboard the Finalizer, you were yet to formulate a way to get out from all the attention from being such an ingenious engineer.

A portion of the attention was genuine admiration, from that of your superior officers, and the technicians whose lives you made simpler. The majority, however, was the admiration of another kind, which made you feel smidgeon embarrassed. It was…less than work appropriate.

“Officer _______, I see you are available on rota. Do you have a moment to spare…?” You hear the familiar voice of Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka call after you upon leaving the study in which you devise your designs. Why he is this far away from being understudy to General Hux, you do not know, but wish he would disappear, or maybe you. “I was wondering if you had spare time next week, and wished to share it with me, Officer.”

He addresses you formally, but he gives you a smile which makes you think this is anything than business for the First Order he is proposing. It must be the fourth time this month you will have to reject the guy; he just can’t take a hint.

“I do have spare time, Lieutenant Mitaka,” you straighten your back, staring him in the eye. “But I have already made plans spend it.”

You see his face redden. “Oh. Oh! Perhaps the week after –,”

You shake your head. “Maybe I should have made myself clearer, Lieutenant Mitaka, but please, take no offense when I say that I have no interest in sharing my spare time with you.” You salute to him, as a superior in rank, and make way to the meeting you are to have that you cannot be late to. “Good day.”

* * *

 

It was but four days later when you were handing the finalised plans to the General himself that you were stopped at the door of his office. If asked on your opinion of the leader of the First Order, you would give an opinion, yes, but it would not be your opinion. You believed the General to be a headstrong man who had a fire in his lungs that desperately needed to be put out before it turned to madness. He led the First Order well, yes, but if you were to direct the way, it could be more than efficient. But perhaps that was just you, as an engineer.

“Officer ________,” he placed the file of your designs upon the Datapad on his desk. “I have noticed that you are not one for taking time for yourself in the public sphere.”

Turning, you raise an eyebrow to your superior, wondering if this was to go in the same direction that the discussion with Lieutenant Mitaka had gone but four days before. “What do you mean, General Hux? When not in session with my fellow peers, I am in the mess hall, or watching the sparring in the training areas.” You spoke the truth. You loved to see the Stormtroopers and younger Officers learning the arts of combat. It was like dancing, but with weapons.

“I see,” he nods, “I wished to extend an invitation to a prestigious event.”

You shake your head, knowing well enough he meant the Gala. It was for the rich people who funded the research, the royalty who were loyal to the cause, the people who supported needs of the First Order. While wearing a gown and makeup might be pleasing to some, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemies. Gowns were inventions of the chaos itself.

“I will have to respectfully decline, General Hux,” you bow, sparing him a polite smile. “I am not a socialite, and find the spotlight to be a precariously terrible place for myself to be in.” The pale redhead nodded. You briefly wondered if he’d ever been declined before, and at this, took your leave. But before your hand could close the door behind you, he spoke once more.

“Your reason for watching the training area,” he commented. “Is it paramount to your work here in the First Order?”

Knowing well enough the man would switch your shifts around as to not allow you to see the training area if you answered negatively, you nodded. “Of course, General Hux. Through observation of what the First Order can achieve on the smaller level, I can understand how the cogs move as to the bigger picture.” You spare a polite smile, and add, “I have a dinner date I cannot be late to, General, please excuse me.”

* * *

 

You leave your quarters almost a month later to run into the one person anyone on board the Finalizer would never wish to run into. Kylo Ren is an imposing figure, and for all you know, of Gungan origin under the regalia and voice changer. But what you knew for sure, was he was a _he_ because of how adamant he was that you cut the shift you were going to be late to, to discuss matters important to only himself.

“You have not completed the assignment give to you last month,” he stated, hand near his lightsabre hilt.

While the commander intimidates most people, you were yet to feel chills of fear by the largest drama queen of the First Order. He was an impressive soldier, and a mystical user of the Force, yes, but he was far from your standards as an efficient man. Only last week had he killed three invalids who were supposed to be interrogated, leaving you with less of a framework to work by with understanding the mechanics of their ship.

“It is not due until Wednesday, Commander Ren,” you reply, staring at the place on his mask where you thought him to look through. “It is only Monday. If you wished it to be completed by today, you needed to have stated that when you submitted it, sir.”

He doesn’t say anything, his hand turning to a fist. You’ve seen him throw lieutenants around like straw dolls, yet he doesn’t touch you. “Understood, Officer _______.” He nods, his voice modulator sounding oddly acquiescent. Before turning away to go on his own way, you feel a sensation inside your mind, like a light tickle, and he adds, “I will not tolerate a late submission.”

* * *

 

By the end of your shift, your feet ache, and so does your neck, and wrists. Unlike other shifts, today you were required to assemble the new ship of your design, and while you enjoyed wearing the overalls of a simple technician, you were aching. If only you had the muscled frame that your wife had, it would make your life much easier when it came to the heavy lifting. But you’re on your way back to your shared quarters, smiling at the idea of a soak in the tub in the refresher, and the smell of her after her training.

“We need to go public,” you tell her, once the doors are closed to the rooms.

After being married on Coruscant a year ago, you’ve kept it quiet to not feel favourited or belittled through the ranks in the First Order. But it’s been almost three months of people approaching you with proposals to lead to relationships, and you’re loyal to one.

Her chromium helmet is off, positioned upon a shelf on your bookshelf, hair a wonderful wild mess of canary blonde locks you love so much. Phasma sighs, and nods. “I agree, ______. While we arranged for it to be for the best…it kills me how I can’t hold my wife’s hand in public without question.”

You laugh. “It’s called the First Order, love, not _Hand-Holders Anonymous_ ,” Taking your hair out of its style, you start to undress from your overalls, watching as Phasma starts taking off her armour, piece by piece. You were the one to design the dynamics of her armour – while it appeared to be just alike the other Stormtrooper armour, it had a special filter through it as to not allow her to suffocate by foreign gases, and had a special layout to accommodate her height. “Why does every guy on board think I’m available, and straight? I can’t catch a break!”

She shakes her head. “You’re taken, and a lesbian,” she reminds you, stepping out of her shin guards, and moving toward you, kisses your brow. “And I’m all yours, baby.”

You smile, biting your lip. “I’m dying for a bath.”

“You run it, I’ll join,” she licks her lips, and planting another kiss upon your skin, motions to the Datapad on the desk by the bed you share. “I have to send a report first.”

* * *

 

The next day you find out what the report is. At first, the morning shift goes smoothly, those who work for you work efficiently, and with the overnight shift working on the assembly of the new ship, all that you needed to do was the basic safety checks and monitoring of the predicted statistics of the fuel economy and jump to warp.

But it’s the afternoon shift you that find yourself cornered by Kylo Ren, and General Hux themselves, not a few yards away from both the Bridge, but also mess hall where you were to eat lunch.

“General, Commander,” you greet, nodding in respect. “What do you require me for?” The general looks dumbfounded. Face blank, he only blinks, silent, for once. Kylo Ren stands still, and makes no move bar the sound of his breathing in the modulator. “If this is to do with the new ship, I have sent it to be approved, and it will be completed for your due date, tomorrow, Commander Ren.”

Still, no remark.

“_________?” You turn, hearing your name informally, but through the familiar modulator of Phasma’s helmet. You smile, and reach out to hold her hand. Damn them all if they want consequences, you’ll hold your wife’s hand if you want to. “General Hux, Commander Ren,” she greets. “If you do not mind, I will steal away your prized engineer for lunch.”

“I went through her mind, and saw no hint of this,” Kylo Ren utters, shaking his head. “I did not know you two were…an item.”

General Hux blinks. “How about not knowing they were friends?”

You laugh at them both, grinning. “How about wives?” You remark, and tug Phasma toward the beckoning of lunch in the mess hall ahead. “Come on, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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